Though I May Roam
by Tirya King
Summary: Five years after Apocalypse, Remy is living his life back with his family in New Orleans. When a freak mutation occurs with ex-fiance Belladonna, he has no choice but to turn to the X-Men for help. With it, old feelings are rekindled and he's asked to offer some help of his own. ROMY with some KURTTY and established JOTT.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Wow, it's been a long time since I posted anything up on this site, but I felt like trying my hand at it again! I hope you enjoy! This chapter will mostly have establishing content with Rogue and the others appearing in Chapter Two.

CHAPTER ONE

Say what you will about Mardis Gras, but Remy's favorite holiday back home was always Halloween. The tourists weren't as prevalent, and the shows were so much better in his opinion. A city built on voodoo and wealth produced one of the strangest places on Earth, and it sure knew how to throw a party. It was just an added bonus that his eyes, normally hidden behind a pair of sunglasses in public, were openly admired during this time of year.

He and his brother were eager to be out with their cousins enjoying the festivities, but for now could only watch it longingly from the window. Duty before pleasure after all, and as was tradition, the Thieves Guild played host to the leaders of the Assassins Guild. It was a boring affair, but one he had to suffer through as the second heir to the family name.

Marius Boudreaux sat across from Jean Luc, a sour expression on his face. Beside each of the Guild leaders sat their two children and heirs. Not even Mercy was allowed to attend though she had grown up under Jean Luc's eye and was married to his eldest.

Remy's face was a blank slate as he looked across the table at what should have been his own wife. Belladonna was as deadly as her name suggested, and right at that moment, her sharp blue eyes stared into his with enough vitriol to wound. She too knew what she should have been versus what was.

Boy had he dodged that bullet.

On Jean Luc's right hand sat Henri, the eldest of his sons. His usual jovial attitude was sober and hard, a mirror of their father. Sometimes even Remy forgot how well his elder brother took to the role of primary Guild heir. It was just as well; Remy didn't want the responsibility of it. He wasn't a leader and while he might be a more skilled thief than Henri, he knew his future didn't lay in leading a clan of them. Perhaps it was best he had no illusions about leading the Guild. It would make things easier when the time came for Henri to take the position, and he would need Remy's support the most.

Julien Boudreaux sat opposite Henri. Like his rival across from him, Julien was a mirror of his father, ready and willing to lead the Assassin's Guild into the future. Unfortunately for him, he wasn't the heir. That honor went to his younger sister who bested him in both skill and ferocity. He was one of the best of his Guild, but in his heart he was a coward. Male or female, Marius would only allow his title to pass down to the strongest of them, the most brutal.

Between the six sat a long contract drafted weeks before. Every year on Halloween night, the leaders of the two Guilds would meet to discuss the terms for continued peace. It was cliché perhaps to conduct such a meeting on this night of all nights, but the Guilds of New Orleans did love their traditions. Especially when it came to the centuries' old feud of theirs.

Yep, Remy was perfectly content leaving this mess to his brother when the time came.

"If dis looks t'be in order," his father was saying to Marius. "Sign it and we can be on our way."

The Assassins leader didn't look to be in any rush. Remy watched with impatience as he took the contract in hand and read it over for what had to be the tenth time that night. Remy and Henri were missing the fun, let's get a move on!

"Y' added another block to y' territory," Marius finally sniffed, tossing the contract back at him. "Change it back."

"We agreed on dis, Marius," Jean Luc said, eyes narrowing. He was just as impatient as his sons to be done with this whole affair. "After a hundred years, de southern block returns t' us."

"I didn' agree to dat," Marius said. "Change it back."

"Père," Belladonna sighed. "Who cares? It's a filthy quarter mile o' swamp."

Remy hid a smirk by pretending to scratch his nose. Leave it to dear ol' Belle to crack first.

Marius shot his youngest a look, but he could tell he was the only one who really wanted to drag this meeting out longer than it needed to be. "Bon," he said with a slight growl. "Take de swamp."

The two leaders finally signed the contract and let their heirs bear witness just below. The drudgery of Guild politics was finally at an end for the night. Remy couldn't get up from his chair fast enough. He tossed the Assassins a wave, took his brother by the sleeve, and marched out.

"Don' get into trouble," Jean Luc warned the pair as they left.  
Remy turned and grinned at his father, arms spread. "Moi?" he asked. "Perish de t'ought, Père."

An eyebrow lifted but the man just waved them off. They all knew things would go better if he just let them have their way. A bored Thief was an irritating Thief. "Off with y' two," he conceded. "Keep an eye on him, Henri."

"Oui!" Henri called, and the pair went to his car to make good their escape. Remy could feel Belladonna's ice blue eyes on his back the entire way and resisted an urge to shiver. What was her problem that night anyway?

"Remy!" she called, but he ignored her and slid into the passenger side of the car. Not today, Satan.

Once inside the car, Remy reached back for a set of bags. They were each dressed in the nicest suits they owned, and as such, would make the rest of their costumes really shine. He didn't know where the tradition came where the Thieves of the Guild would all don Venetian festival attire for Halloween, but there it was. Even he was a slave to tradition now and then.

Besides, he looked damn good in it.

"I thought we'd never get out of there," Henri complained, pulling the car out of the parking lot and zipping out into traffic.

Remy looked in the rearview mirror and saw Bella watching them leave before stalking over to her own car. "Oui," he said. "An' I never thought I'd be grateful f' Belle's temper."

"Halloween," Henri sighed. "De night o' mysteries."

"Only mystery I'm aiming for is how much we gotta drink t' catch up wit' everyone," Remy said. "Dey have a three hour head start on us."

"Not me, Rem. Mercy cut me off."

Remy turned his red and black eyes on his brother, softening just a little. "How she holdin' up?" he asked. "Père's ready t' move her into de plantation if she ain' careful."

"I'd pay t' see him try it," Henri said with a laugh. "She'd kick his ass, knocked up o'non. Y' thought she was scary before when she was mad, y' ain't seen nothin'."

"Can y' blame him? It is his first granchil'." Remy smiled at the look on his brother's face. He was still stuck in a state of disbelief, even five months into Mercy's pregnancy. But he'd make a good father in the end. He deserved this happiness, and so did Mercy. He could only hope she didn't kill anyone in the process. A firecracker by nature, she was outright ferocious when pregnant.

"Mebbe his last too if she kills me," Henri chuckled. "Y' have t' protect me as my frère an' meilleur ami."

"From Mercy?" Remy said with a snort. "Ain' likely o' possible."

"Coward."

"Damn right I am."

They pulled onto Bourbon Street and cruised for a place to park. There were several designated spots throughout the city for Guild members, enforced by businesses who wanted to curry favor. So while traffic was a nightmare between pedestrians and vehicles alike, it wasn't long before Henri found a place to park in the midst of it all.

"Where dey say t' meet them?" Remy asked, opening his bag. Inside was a black and red cape and a matching Venetian plague mask. His brother wore a similar set, though his was blue and gold.

"De 544," Henri said. "Ansel's been beggin' to go for weeks now."

Masks and capes in place, the brothers made their way up the street, passing every manner of person out on the town. From children still trying their luck at trick or treating to tourists to jazz bands, everyone was out to enjoy the night. Remy's senses were filled with the sights and sounds of home, and while he loved it, he wasn't at ease. There was something missing from this, and he found his thoughts drifting northward toward a small town in New York.

It had been years since he was last in the area, and longer still since he had business there. After the events of the mutant Apocalypse, the various mutant teams that lived in Bayville all seemed to agree on a truce. With no mercenary work left to do, Remy took the opportunity to split town and head back south where he belonged.

And he did belong here. He was as much a son of New Orleans herself as he was of Jean Luc. Despite all his wandering ways, Remy always returned home in the end. It was where he was destined to remain, where his brother and cousins and everyone he ever cared about was destined to remain.

Well, perhaps not everyone.

"You alright, Rem?" Henri asked, giving him a side glance as they walked.

"Fine," he answered. "Jus' thinking is all."

"Well stop it. Tonight's about havin' fun with y' famille. No thinking allowed."

Remy chuckled and nodded his agreement. Thinking only caused trouble. It had been a long time since he'd last seen his only friend up North, and he doubted she even remembered him. There was no point in reliving the past.

Inside the club, the men found Mercy and five of their cousins already seated with food. She stood and went to her husband as soon as she saw them, and Remy slid into her place at the booth.

"What took y' so long?" Ansel asked with a pout. "We thought you'd be startin' World War Three wit' how long y' were."

"I was perfectly behaved," Remy said with an honest raise of his hand. "It was Bella dat kept th' peace in de end."

"Miracles neve' cease," cousin Liliana snorted, stealing one of Ansel's fries. Twins Claude and Colin were busy flirting with the waitress, and Estelle simply looked bored. Well this wouldn't do. Not on Halloween.

He was about to suggest moving the excitement to the dance floor when a sharp voice cut through the deafening music.

"Remy LeBeau!"

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He was above that, after all. More mature than that… Oh, but why did it have to be her?

"Look what piece o' trash blew in from de street," Colin remarked. He and the others all looked at the Princess of Assassins with open disdain.

"Dis club in our territory, ma chere," Claude added. "Run along to y'own."

At last Remy turned his head to look at Belladonna. He should have figured she'd follow him here. When she had a bone to pick, simply ignoring her would only make things worse. No one ignored Belladonna without paying for it.

She had changed from her Assassin garb into a flowing blue dress that brought out the unusual color of her pale eyes. Her hair was pinned and tied into elaborate knots with a few stray curls brushing the curve of her neck. Once, that would have tempted him, teased him until he had no choice but to follow after her.

Those days were long gone, and she was clearly in denial about it.

"Get outta here, Belle," he sighed. "We don' need any blood t'night."

"I don't care 'bout what boundaries y' think y' have," she said with arms crossed. "If y' want me gone, den make me." She walked towards them with deliberate steps. He had to give her credit; she wasn't easily cowed even when surrounded by enemies on territory not her own. Hell, the glare Mercy was sending her way should have been enough to make the woman back off.

Damn her, she was right though. No one was in the mood to restart anything simply because she walked into the wrong nightclub. Simply the thought of having to endure another contract signing was enough to make Remy let her stay.

"Just tell me what y' want," he said. "Den be on y' way."

A delicate eyebrow arched and she looked at the assembled Thieves. Point received, Remy slid out from the booth to give Mercy her seat back and walked towards Belladonna. Though her dress was nearly sheer, he had no doubt she had no less than five hidden weapons somewhere on her person. Beauty and lethality were two attributes Belladonna wore equally well.

She led him towards the back where it was at least quiet enough to hear each other without shouting. Not that he really needed to listen to know what the woman would say. He practically knew the speech by heart.

"Remy," she said, just the smallest bit of softness creeping into her cold gaze.

"No, Belle," he interrupted, crossing his arms. It was time this stopped. It wasn't good for either of them. "Y' know my answer."

"Y' loved me once!" she cried, reaching for him. He stepped away from her and her gaze hardened again. "I know y' loved me. We can still make it work, give our families peace…"

"Y' got no interest in peace," he said. "An' I got no interest in marryin' you. Y' think we'd actually make each other happy?"

"Happiness'll come," she said. "If y'd just—"

"No," he said again, more firmly this time. He took off the damn mask so he could face her properly, his eyes cold and hard.

He believed her when she said she loved him, he even believed she meant only good out of this. One thing he could never believe, however, was that happiness would come to them. They were opposites, and not in a good way. Whatever hormones were going through him when he was younger, it was all gone. He was a man now, and not as prone to giving in to the temptation that she offered. They'd kill each other within in a year if they were married, and their families would follow soon after.

"Je suis désolé," he sighed. "But no. Now go on home 'fore Julien comes lookin'."

"My brother doesn' control me," she said, but he could see tears beginning to form. She was too proud to let them fall, but it hurt him to see it anyway. "He says our kind don' mix."

"Y' should listen t' him," Remy said. "We don'. We ain' meant t'. Go home, Belle."

He put the mask back on and turned to go, feeling her rage even without the use of his empathy. He didn't look back and he didn't pause. That was, until something forced him to.

"Don' y' dare walk away from me, Remy LeBeau!"

A blast of heat hit him from behind, throwing him to the ground. All around him were screams of frightened club-goers and the sound of people running away. Remy was more stunned than hurt thankfully, and he quickly rolled to his feet, turning to face the threat. He reached into his pocket to pull out his trusty pack of cards, ready to charge them in a counter-attack. Whatever Bella had done was…

But she didn't have any weapon in her hand.

The Assassin's hands were glowing, encircled in orbs of flame. Her eyes were burning with their own fire, orange now instead of blue. He could hardly believe what he was seeing. She'd never shown any signs of having mutant abilities before; she'd even openly announced her disdain for them, Remy aside.

The woman looked down at her hands, just as confused by the outburst as he was.

"Remy!"

He looked back at his twin cousins who came running, Ansel and Liliana close behind. Estelle and Henri were ushering a furious Mercy out of the room. She was hollering to take out the Assassin princess herself for daring to attack her brother. Good old Mercy.

The cousins stood at his side, pulling out their own weapons to back him up. A knife here, a gun there. Like any of that would matter against a mutant Belladonna. Except the woman didn't seem like she was trying to take anyone on. She looked up from her hands and the fires slowly died. Her eyes paled to their normal blue. The color drained from her face as she looked at Remy beseechingly.

"Remy?" she asked, and then toppled down into a dead faint.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

Five years. Five long years it had been since Remy last saw the front of this mansion. In all the time between, it looked like nothing had changed at all. The same trees were there, the same carefully manicured lawn. Even the swiveling security camera peering down at him was the same.

What would he face inside however? What had the years done to its occupants?

"Mr. LeBeau," Dr. McCoy's gentle tone came over the intercom. "When the Professor said you'd be coming, I didn't really believe it." Well, Remy should have expected Xavier to know he'd be coming. Perhaps he knew it even before Remy did himself.

"Bonjour," Remy said, leaning out the window of the rented car. "I know I ain' got any right t' be here…"

"Nonsense," the other man interrupted. "We are always here for a mutant in need, be it friend or past enemy."

"It's for a…" Remy glanced back at Belladonna who was trying to make herself as small as possible. "For a friend. We need th' professor's help."

"Come in. We'll meet you out front."

With a groan, the iron gates opened and allowed Remy to pull in. He'd been on the grounds several times in the past, but never through the front door. What a weird start to a weird journey.

"Who is this Professor?" Belladonna asked in a harsh whisper. "Why does he know 'bout us?"

"He de only guy in th' country can help y'," Remy said. "Now play nice, Belle. I'm here as a favor t' you. Y' don' want t' be on these people's bad sides." Perhaps he did make them sound more frightening than he should have, but anything to keep Belladonna from starting any more blood feuds was worth it. One at a time was his absolute limit on blood feuds.

There wasn't anyone visible on the grounds as he made his way to the front door. The autumn season had done this place justice, and it made him feel slightly homesick for New York, though he'd barely spent any time in it at all.

When Remy parked the car across from the front door, the first of the X-Men walked out. It was Dr. McCoy himself, looking as friendly and furry as always. Remy got out of the car and offered a hand, relieved when it was only shaken and released. Did they really hold no enmity for him?

He noticed that Belladonna stayed where she was, just watching with wide horrified eyes. If the situation were any less bizarre, he would have found it hilarious. The ferocious Princess of Assassins, scared stiff by an overgrown teddy bear who wouldn't harm a fly.

"Is this your friend?" Hank asked, nodding to the woman.

"Of a sort," Remy shrugged. Beyond the doctor, he saw a few more mutants file out to see the new arrivals. Some he knew by name, others by sight. The younger ones were completely unfamiliar to him.

One mutant he was familiar with was the leader himself, Cyclops, walking out with a disapproving scowl on his face. Apparently he wasn't as welcome by everyone as he thought.

"What is he doing here?" Scott asked. He'd only changed a little since Remy last saw him. He looked stronger now, more sure of himself. Probably the same ol' tool as ever. Five years couldn't fix everything after all. Still, Remy reminded himself to stay civil for now, at least until Bella could control her need to set things on fire.

"He's here as the professor's guest," Hank said as if that would resolve everything.

It didn't.

"We don't house Cajun trash as guests," Wolverine said, pushing his way through curious students. He looked Remy up and down like his very presence was offensive. "Send him on his way, Hank."

Well there was a man who hadn't changed at all. It somehow made things more reassuring for Remy, angry pile of badger aside. This was a man he knew, and a man he knew was a man he could predict.

"Oh, stop it." Jean stepped forward and offered Remy a smile and a hand. "If the professor says he can stay, then we have to make him feel welcome. Hello, Remy."

He returned the smile and lifted her hand to kiss the back of, enjoying the look of disgust on Scott's face. "Bonjour, ma belle." The years had been kind to this one. She was more beautiful than he remembered, and as with Scott, more sure of herself. This wasn't the team of teenagers he last saw; perhaps he was right to warn Bella to behave herself.

Jean blushed but released his hand, walking toward the car where Bella sat. The women sized each other up, but the telepath offered her a smile as well. Slowly, as if ready for attack, Belladonna finally emerged from the car, stiff and awkward. It wasn't like her to show discomfort, but then, she'd had a rough couple of days. The moment she believed she had this mansion pegged, the ferocity would return. Of that, Remy had no doubt. He could only hope it would be a while before that happened. She was liable to get them both kicked out and missing a few limbs besides.

"My name's Jean," the red head introduced herself. "What's yours?"

Bella looked as if she would remain silent, but a warning glare from Remy reminded her. "Belladonna," she said, lifting her chin up as if to answer a challenge.

Good, the girls were playing nice.

Hank cleared his throat, and Remy turned to face him again. "The professor said he would like to see you both once you're settled in. We can take your bags and put them in your rooms." While he kept the same friendly tone as before, the Cajun knew this was not a suggestion. This place had its rules, and he would have to follow them if he wanted to remain welcome. Merde, but Bella owed him for all of this. When he imagined returning to this place, it certainly wasn't with a suddenly mutant ex-fiancé in tow.

"I'll take them," said a quiet voice behind the doctor.

Remy's eyes widened as he caught sight of a very familiar face. It was a face he'd memorized in the short time they knew one another. The goth make-up was gone, and the hair was longer, but the sharp green eyes were the same. Rogue.

"Hey, Chère," he breathed. One corner of her lips twitched, but she otherwise kept her reaction neutral.

"Hey yourself," she said, her eyes flitting to Belladonna for a moment. Did she know who Bella was, having absorbed his memories before? Did she care, one way or the other? He wasn't sure why, but he wondered if she did. What had the years done to her?

He opened his mouth to say more, but she turned and headed back into the mansion, pausing at the door for him to catch up. Remy nodded to Belladonna to follow, and she took her place near him. He couldn't blame her for being uncomfortable really. He was the only mutant she'd really ever had contact with, and for all her feelings for him, Bella knew he was dangerous as well.

Now she was one of them. She had to adapt to that fact, like it or not. Her world now included blue furry doctors and red-haired telepaths among dozens of others. It was a strange bit of karmic justice really. Watching her squirm these past few days was as satisfying as it was nerve-wracking.

Rogue led the pair up the stairs and towards the library where the professor kept his office. She was still covered from head to toe, but rather than black leather, she wore simple jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. On her hands were the same old gloves she'd worn before. It was nice to see that not everything was different with her. She'd filled out some, and he couldn't help but admire it as he followed her.

When they rounded a corner, Remy was nearly knocked down by a pair of identical twin boys. They looked to be about ten years old, and were playing tag as they alternated between deer forms and human.

"Watch it!" Rogue snapped, narrowly avoiding an antler to the gut. "What'd Scott tell you 'bout powers in th' house?"

"Sorry, Miss Rogue!" one of the deer called out, galloping to catch his brother.

"Miss Rogue?" Remy asked her, amused.

She shrugged and gave a wry smile. "Kids," was all she offered by way of explanation.

"Dey just… just change like dat?" Belladonna asked, a mixture of horrified and amazed.

"Only when they ain' supposed to," Rogue said and moved on.

Belladonna shot Remy a look as they followed. He'd known her long enough to know what that look meant: how could this all be taken so blasé? Well, she'd certainly have a wake-up call by the time this was over. Not that it would do anything for her attitude, of course. Her powers seemed limited to pyrotechnics, not complete personality changes.

The professor was waiting for them when Rogue knocked and opened the door. He wheeled forward to greet them, a welcoming smile on his lips. The most powerful man in the world, and he always seemed so genuine.

Remy leaned forward to shake his hand, and Bella just nodded her head to him politely.

Once the pleasantries were over with, Xavier turned to look at Belladonna, his eyes sympathetic to her plight. "I understand how difficult this must be for you," he said. "Usually when a mutant's powers reveal themselves, they're much younger than you are."

Bella's eyes narrowed dangerously at the mention of her age, but she didn't say anything in response. Remy would have laughed if he wasn't afraid of the mansion going up in flames.

If the professor noticed her ruffled feathers, he didn't mention it. "You are welcome to stay as long as you need to. I will help you as much as I can so you can control your new powers. Perhaps, if you choose to, you can join our team."

Fat chance of that, Remy thought. Why would Belladonna suit up in spandex when she had a whole Assassin empire waiting for her back home?

"Merci," Belladonna said. "And de payment?"

"Payment?" Xavier asked. "I don't understand."  
"For y' help."

Remy stepped in. "We can work on dat later," he interjected. "F'now, what do y' want us t' do?"

"I actually have a proposition for you, but that can wait until tomorrow after you're both rested and settled in."

A proposition? Remy's interest was piqued, and he wanted to know more. Ah well. Leave it to the old man to leave him hanging; it was probably just a tactic to be sure he wasn't off with the house silver by dawn.

And dammit it worked too.

"Rogue," Xavier said suddenly, looking up at her. He had a small smile on his face. "I do believe little Nathan is awake."

Nathan? What's a Nathan?

Rogue sighed. "I just put him down for a nap too."

"Babies are like that, I'm afraid," he chuckled.

Baby? Whose baby? Her baby?

Remy wanted to ask her, but she was already heading for the door. "Dinner's at six. Kitty's cooking," she called back, and then she was gone.

Xavier leaned forward in his chair with a small smile and a wink. "Then I would suggest you take some time to rest and freshen up. Once Kitty serves dinner, it will take about an hour for the replacement pizzas to arrive."

Well that sounded ominous. Still, Remy nodded and they were given the keys to their rooms and a list of house rules. It was rather like being a child again, but beggars and choosers and all. Bella really owed him for this.

As they walked out of the room, he noticed she'd been unusually subdued the entire visit. She'd been respectful enough so far, which was better than he'd dare hope. She treated Xavier like a Guild leader. Close enough.

With Belladonna, however, even discomfort couldn't keep her quiet for long. The moment they were at a safe distance from the office, she rounded on him, blue eyes tinted with gold.

"Why did y' bring me here?" she hissed. "Dis is a place f' crazy people, not me! It's crawlin' wit' freaks an' animals!"

"T'be fair," he pointed out. "De animals were mutants too, Bella."

Her hands began to glow, and the gold became brighter. "Remy! Ah can' stay here!"

"Y' gonna stay an' y' gonna like it," he reminded her, placing a calming hand on her shoulder. It seemed to work, a little. "Dese are good people, an' they can help y'."

A sudden boom shook their part of the mansion and nearly knocked Belladonna off her feet. She immediately shifted into Assassin mode, reaching for a knife tucked into her boot. Bah, and here he thought he'd confiscated all of them prior to coming here. While she readied for an attack, he just tucked his hands in his pockets and waited. If the X-Men were anything like he remembered, there was nothing to worry about.

Sure enough, there was a cackle of laughter and a screech of fury from a few doors down, in the male wing of the house. With a puff of sulfur and brimstone, a dark blue figure appeared in the middle of the hall and bounded towards them, a grin on his face.

"What de hell is dat!" Belladonna cried, reading to throw the knife. Remy reached over to grab her wrist, taking the weapon from her.

"Easy, Belle. Jus' another resident."

A door opened and a man completely clear like ice came running after. "Kurt!" he roared. "Get back here!"

A third figure peeked out from the open door, a young woman with a sheet wrapped around her. She simply shrugged and went back inside, the door shutting behind her.

Never a dull day. It almost felt like being back home when the Guild gathered together en masse on the LeBeau plantation.

Remy stepped to the side to let Kurt and Bobby by, tugging Belladonna along with him. Neither of the mutants acknowledged Remy's presence, too caught up in whatever prank had been pulled.

"Dis is a mad house," Belladonna sighed. For once, they agreed on something.

He guided her towards the female wing where her room was. Adults were able to keep their own room, and for that he was grateful. He didn't want to think what kind of roommate Belladonna would be to whatever poor soul she ended up with. It wasn't very large, but comfortable enough with its own bathroom attached and a sizable bed.

She sniffed at it regardless, but said it would do for now. Good enough.

"Where's y' room?" she asked.

"Wit' de men," he answered, not liking the sudden glint in her eyes. He didn't feel so bad for her that he'd offer physical comfort. That wasn't part of the deal and she'd known that.

Before she could try to argue the fact, he turned to leave. "See y' downstairs at seven," he called back, and then he was gone. He could only hope she didn't set anything on fire in the meantime.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

The baby stopped his crying the moment Rogue entered the room. She never quite understood why little Nathan behaved so well for her, but the others were certainly happy to use it to their advantage. Babysitting duties often fell to her when his parents were otherwise occupied.

Sure, let's leave the baby with the person who might kill him if he touched her skin. Great idea, guys.

"Hey squirt," she greeted him, turning on the lights of the nursery.

He was just getting big enough to stand on his own, and he did so now. Leaning against the rails of his crib, Nathan rocked happily. It was with a strange sense of pride that Rogue saw he did this for her automatically while his own mother had to work at it.

Fixing a thin scarf around her neck for added protection, Rogue scooped the boy up and carried him out the door. "C'mon, time to go see Mama."

She brought him downstairs towards the common areas. The scent of burnt…something filled the mansion. Well, she'd found Kitty alright. The baby wrinkled up his nose as well, stuffing his face into her shirt.

"That ain't nice," she chided gently. "Y' Auntie Kitty's gettin' better."

If he understood her, he didn't seem to care. Not that she could really blame him; Kitty's cooking fails were legendary, and nearly enough to declare another latent mutation in the woman. Lesser actions have been known to kill people. It was a true sign of their love for her that the group continued to put her on the cooking rotation. Either that, or it was an excuse for pizza at least twice a month.

She followed the smell into the kitchen where sure enough, something black was sitting in a frying pan. The chef in question was flitting from side to side, trying to find something. A fire extinguisher hopefully.

Jean got up from her seat at the table to take the baby. Rogue relinquished him thankfully and decided to have pity on her former roommate. She walked over and shut off the burner, peering into the blackened mass on the pan.

"What's this?" she asked.

"Oh good, you're here," Kitty said, looking flustered. "I really need help this time."

Rogue smirked and straightened up. "Kitty, y'know I love you, but I ain' qualified t' give you th' help you need."

"Please, this is serious! It's really bad this time, and I…stop giving me that look!"

Rogue forced her face neutral. "Sorry, Kit."

Kitty's eyes were filled with frustrated tears which few in the house could withstand, Rogue included. She sighed and went to the pantry to try and find a substitute. "I don' know why you don' just give it up. You'n cookin' are like that recipe you had of chocolate and spaghetti. Some things just ain' meant to be together."

"That's not very nice."

Rogue grabbed a handful of potatoes and turned to give her an incredulous look. "Did you see what's in that pan? I'm pretty sure they screen for that in airport security."

Her friend chose to ignore that and they tried round two for dinner. As long as Rogue was in charge of all heating and measuring, there was a possibility that something could be salvaged. Jean came in to bear witness and let little Nathan crawl about.

"So," Jean said. "What do you two think about Gambit and that girl being here?"

Rogue paused for a moment, then continued her chopping. "I don't know why I should think anythin' about it," she shrugged. For all the things she hid from the others, she wasn't a very good liar. The moment she heard Hank say that Gambit was at their door, her mind had been restless, agitated. What was she supposed to think?

It had been five years since she'd even heard his name. Once things settled down in Bayville and his father was rescued, Remy skipped town without even a word of farewell. That part had hurt more than she was willing to admit. It wasn't that she was all that attached to him, Rogue was attached to no one, but… she thought he'd at least say goodbye.

Now he was back, with an Assassin in tow. When she saw Belladonna in the backseat of that car, it took a moment for her to realize who it was. Her psyches were so muddled in her head that it was hard to get a definite memory from any of them. Yet Remy's eventually came forward, and she recognized Belladonna Boudreaux, heir to the Assassins Guild.

But what was she doing here?

"Uh, Rogue?" Kitty asked, peering over her shoulder. "Are you ok?"

Coming out of her daze, Rogue looked down at the meat she'd been cutting for the grill. Oops. "Looks like it's stir-fry tonight," she said with a small smile. "Got carried away I guess."

"Uh huh," Jean scooped up her son before he could crawl underfoot.

Kitty just leaned against the counter and smiled at Rogue. "You know, he got a lot cuter, didn't he?"

One of Rogue's eyebrows rose and she pointed the knife in Kitty's direction. "I'm sure I have no idea what you're talkin' about," she said.

"Non, I'd say la petit chaton got it right. Y' think I got better lookin' too, Chère?"

The women turned to face the doorway where Remy was leaning, a shit-eating grin on his face. Oh great. Rogue didn't allow his sudden appearance to disarm her. She simply set the knife down and dumped the meat into a clean pan.

"We were talkin' 'bout the baby," Rogue sniffed, though she wasn't sure he believed her. Fine, let him think whatever he wanted. "Life ain't all about you, Swamp Rat."

"An' ain't it a sadder world for it."

He walked towards them, and Rogue busied herself with chopping onions rather than having to deal with him. For all the years between now and their last meeting, he didn't seem to have changed very much. He was still a ham for attention and far too sure of himself and his looks, "cute" though they might be. If you were into that sort of thing.

Keeping half an eye on Kitty lest she get any bright ideas about helping with dinner beyond cutting potatoes, Rogue's attention was unfortunately on the Cajun moving nearby. He moved out of eyesight which heightened her awareness, but she could do nothing about it. If she turned to watch him, it would be giving in to his desire for attention, and that simply would not do.

"Need any help?" he offered behind her, far too close for comfort.

Knowing he was out for a reaction, and knowing they had an audience for said reaction, Rogue felt her patience growing thin. Jean, the traitor, simply took her son out of the kitchen claiming a dirty diaper.

"I'm fine," she said with a lift of her chin. She could smell spice and leather as he stood behind her, but refused to linger on the memories that came with the scent. That was years ago, and besides, nothing happened. It was nothing.

"I can see dat," he quipped. Behind them, Rogue could hear Kitty giggle as she puttered about the kitchen.

"Ok, look…" she turned around and blinked, surprised at how close he'd gotten. How could a man of his height move that quietly? He couldn't have been more than a foot away from her, which was about five feet too close for her comfort.

"Oh, I'm lookin'." Damn him and damn that smirk of his.

She lifted the onion knife and gestured with it towards his chest, hoping he was as easy to bully as Kitty was. "I ain't got my gloves on right now an' I don't feel like bein' inside y' head. So back it off, you."

Behind him, she could hear more puttering of her friend who was being far too quiet to not be up to something. She was distracted by one of Remy's hands mussing her hair playfully.

"Don' worry, Chère," he said with a grin. "I always watch where y' hands are."

Oh, that was it. He was a dead man walking.

Annoyed, she swiped at him with the knife, but he was too fast. He backed away from her, hands up in surrender. "I see y' just as moody as I remember," he teased.

"With a higher kill count," she said without missing a beat.

"If y' ever want t' trade moves," he began. "I—" But her attention was pulled elsewhere.

"No, Kitty, don't!" Rogue jumped for the stove but it was too late. The damage was done.

Kitty looked up from putting her third tablespoon of salt into the pan of meat and vegetables. Her blue eyes were entirely blank with ignorance of what she'd just done. "What?" she asked. "It's not even a spice."

Remy looked fairly impressed but kept a safe distance from the woman. He eyed her measuring spoon like he would a loaded weapon. So maybe he wasn't a complete idiot after all. Maybe.

Rogue just sighed, annoyed. This was almost a successful dinner night too; Kitty's third in the ten years she'd been a resident here. She pointed over at Kitty's phone laying on the counter. "Go on."

Her friend shook her head, trying for the tears again, but this time they didn't work. "Rogue…" she began.

"Nope. Go on now, Kit. You know what you did."

Like a chastised child, Kitty obediently put the tablespoon in the sink and reached for her phone. She had the number on speed dial. As the phone rang, she walked out into the hall. "Hello? Yes, delivery please…"

Remy watched the younger woman walk away and looked back at Rogue.

"What?" she asked.

"Dat was cold," he said with a smirk.

"You try eatin' outta that pan an' tell me any different."

He took a look at the offered pan where there was still a thick crust of congealing salt on top. Clearly thinking better of it, he took a step away. "Ain' hungry," he lied. Smart man.

"Well since y' here, you're gonna work." She tossed him a rag which he accepted. While he wiped up the counters from whatever occult ritual Kitty had done, she tossed the ruined food and got to work on the dishes.

She watched him out of the corner of her eye now and then, careful to avoid catching his gaze in return. She technically knew why he was there; it was all the younger students could talk about. He needed the professor's help with something, though no one quite knew what. It still didn't explain Belladonna's presence there, or why they'd even allow her in the front gate.

"Y' freakin' me out, Chère," he grumbled after a few minutes. "Jus' say it."

"Say what?" she asked, keeping her eyes firmly on the pan she'd been scrubbing for the past five minutes.

"Whatever it is y' thinkin'. If y' scrub that pan any harder, y' goin' break through to th' other side."

She contemplated the pan for a moment and then set it aside. "Why are you here? And why with…her?"

"Y' know who she is?" he asked, and she could feel his eyes on her.

"I may not remember everythin' from absorbin' people, but I remember who she is." She paused. "You marry her?"

He scoffed, and she finally turned to look back at him. He had set the rag down and was leaning against the counter with crossed arms. "I'd sooner marry her damn brother," he said.

"Then why bring an Assassin here?" If the woman was going to be a threat to her large adopted family, then Rogue wanted to know now.

"Because… I didn' know where else t' take her." He looked around to make sure they were alone before he continued. "Bella's got herself some powers an' I don' know how t' help her."

"Why even bother?" It was perhaps a bit cruel to say, but from what Rogue knew about the woman, she wouldn't do half as much to help someone else who needed it.

"One: I don' feel like havin' t' keep New Orleans from burnin' down when she gets in a mood, an' two: she needed th' help. She was scared, Rogue. I couldn' just leave her like that."

She shrugged and turned back to the dishes. She didn't know why his answer made her unhappy. It wasn't like it was a bad answer; it was probably one of the most decent things he'd ever said. But the part of her that remembered the friendship they'd started those years back… that part was stung. He'd done this for Belladonna of all people, but he didn't even have the decency to say goodbye.

"Y' upset with me," he noted. It wasn't a question. Between his observation skills and empathy, she should have expected he'd be able to read her.

Rogue hated it when people could read her. Many things about her had changed these past five years, but not that. She could count the number of people on one hand who had the privilege of her full confidence, and he wasn't one of them. Perhaps once he could have been.

But that was five years ago.

"I'm just confused," she said, knowing it wasn't a good answer. "You could have come back before now. You could have called or something. But now you show up with that… that Assassin asking for our help."

"Would y' stop an' look at me?" he asked. She could feel the frustration between them, but thankfully no one else was around to see it.

With a sigh, Rogue finally shut the water off and dried off her hands. After another long moment, she raised her green eyes to his, watching him cautiously. He was a stranger to her, and yet still so familiar. The kindred spirit she'd found, the fellow orphan from the South, he was there too, but he was older and hidden.

"I should've," he admitted. "It wasn' right not t' contact you again. Y'd jus' saved my Père's life after all I did t' you, kidnappin' you and all."

"But you didn't."

"But I didn't." He offered an apologetic smile. "Afte' a while, it was easier not t' bother. I figured y' preferred not bein' reminded of t'ings from before."

He didn't know what she preferred. She almost told him so, but held her tongue. He'd lost the right to know her preferences too.

"But I aim t' make it right," he went on. "I want t' be friends again, Rogue."

"Were we ever friends?" she asked, but the threat of a smile tugged at her lips.

"Either dat or y' Stockholm Syndrome kicked in real fast back in New Orleans."

She did finally laugh at that. Drying off her hands, Rogue reached for her gloves and tugged them on. "Friends then," she agreed, offering him her hand.

Rather than shake it like any normal human being, he lifted it to his lips and kissed her knuckles. "Bon," he said with a grin. "Friends it is."

An eyebrow raised, but she didn't offer any further comment. It would just encourage him. "This doesn't mean y' ain't helping, you know. Plates are in the left cabinet by your head," she said. "Cups are to the left of that, and napkins are behind you in the pantry."

He got to work while she finished the rest of the dishes. The tension she'd felt before slowly relaxed into something more comfortable. It wasn't the ease of moving about with one of the mansion residents, but it was still an improvement.

By the time the pizza arrived, everything was laid out for the students and teachers of the mansion. Kitty went out to greet the deliveryman, Logan went out to threaten the deliveryman, and Bobby went out to point and laugh. It was a routine long perfected over the years of living together, and Rogue found a strange sense of comfort in it. She doubted the poor pizza kid felt the same way.

By the time the three came back inside, the residents were all beginning to gather. Rogue stood back in the kitchen and just watched. There were too many people, too much bare skin, for her to feel comfortable vying for a place in line. She'd wait for the feeding frenzy to die down before stepping in.

"Go on," she nodded to Remy who was staying back with her. "The twins'll try to take whatever's left if you don't hurry up."

He just shrugged and leaned back against the counter, hands in his pockets. Well if he was going to be stubborn about it, he was liable to starve. Still, it was his choice. So she leaned back and waited with him.

They shared comfortable silence as the area became overrun with hungry teenagers and adults. Boxes were passed around, soda cans levitated to their respective owners, and seats staked out around the table and living room. Pizza night was always more casual, and while the Professor insisted on the team sharing meals whenever possible, no one was required to sit anywhere special.

"Told y' so," she commented as they watched the chaos together.

"C'est bon," Remy said. "Feels like home almos'."

She doubted that even the craziest of LeBeau family parties could amount to a herd of hungry mutants, but she liked the comparison. It did feel like home. In this day and age, for a mutant to say that was no small thing, and she felt lucky for it.

"Hey Rogue!"

She looked up and saw two plates of pizza slid over the counter to them. Kitty grinned at her and went to go sit with Jubilee and Rahne. That woman was a saint, apocalyptic kitchen skills aside.

Handing over a plate to the Cajun, Rogue took the other for herself. She hadn't even taken a bite yet when a voice interrupted, cutting through the sound like a well-sharpened knife. Like an Assassin's knife.

"Remy?" Belladonna called, walking in from the hallway that led to the stairs. Her blue eyes were wide with restrained alarm, and her body was stiff and awkward. She moved like the others were infected, and she might catch whatever they had. Too bad for her that the mutant gene was hereditary instead.

"Over here, Bella," Remy answered, and Rogue barely managed to hide a scowl. Their friendship truce didn't involve professional murderers.

Belladonna stepped over limbs and boxes and plates until she made it into the kitchen. She gave Rogue a dissatisfied once-over before turning her attention to her fellow Cajun. "I want t' leave," she said in a tone that did not invite disagreement. "Take me home, Remy."

"We jus' got here," he said, continuing to eat as if she'd just commented on the weather. "Unpack an' get comfy b'fore y' decide y' don' like it none."

Rogue hid a smirk behind her soda can. Even the worst of the professor's cases lasted longer than a half day. Was this really the Belladonna she'd seen through a younger Remy's eyes? Feared Assassin, hm? She couldn't even handle a pizza party with a bunch of teenagers and adults.

"I mean it, Remy," Belladonna's fists clenched. "This was a bad idea. I'm not stayin' in dis house o' freaks another minute."

"Careful there, honey," Rogue said with an arched eyebrow. "These freaks can hear just fine."

The woman looked her up and down again with a sneer. "An' who de hell do y' t'ink…" Then she paused and stepped closer. "Wait, I know you."

The other eyebrow went up. "We ain' never met," Rogue said, holding her ground. She'd be damned if she let this woman try to intimidate her in her own kitchen.

"Non," Belladonna agreed with a frown. "But you an' my brother did. Skunk stripe an' green eyes. Y' dat mutant girl that broke int' our home."

She really should be the bigger person. She was a senior member of the X-Men, mentor to the younger students and powerful mutant in her own right. She knew better, and yet…

"Wasn' exactly hard," Rogue scoffed with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Which one was y' brother? Not that first redneck I took out in couple seconds, was it?"

Bella lunged forward, but Remy thrust his arm out and took her by the shoulder. "Enough, Belle," he said, eyes harder than before. "Where's y' manners? Y' a guest here, now act like it."

"Don' tell me what t' do," Belladonna hissed, her eyes still fixed on Rogue who glared right back. "If dat putain laide says one word 'gainst me or mine—"

"Faire taire!" he snapped, and she finally fell silent. "Get some food in y' an' keep y' mouth shut. I didn' secret y' up here jus' for you t' get us kicked outta de only place dat can help."

Belladonna didn't drop her gaze from the other woman for a moment, but she took Remy's offered slice. "Watch who y' cross, ma cherie," Bella growled at her. "Y' insulted ma famille, an' dat ain' a sin be easily forgiven."

"Anytime," Rogue grinned, itching to take off her glove. "We'll see how fast I drop y' ass compared t' your brother."

Belladonna snarled but pulled back, looking at Remy with a cold disapproving gaze. "Au moins je sais que vous ne l'avez pas couché avec elle, Remy. Je ne suis pas stupide, le putain laide ne peut pas toucher personne, non?" And then she was gone, drifting back through the crowd to an empty spot, away from the others.

Rogue didn't know what any of that meant, but she doubted it was complimentary. "Ain' she charming," she snorted. "Real debutante material."

"Y' should see her in a bad mood," Remy said. "Come t' think of it, I think she killed someone at her debutante ball…"

"Ain' surprised." Rogue put down the rest of her meal, her appetite gone. Belladonna was a harsh reminder that while she and Remy had made amends, he wasn't here for that. He didn't come back to fix whatever remained of their friendship, or to join the X-Men. He was here for his ex-fiancé, one who could potentially harm anyone here in the mansion. He would come back for Bella but not for her?

Enough, she told herself. He had no obligation to come back, and why would he? What would he come back for anyway?

She must have been projecting again, because Remy gave her a strange look. "First rule of mutant school," she told him. "Powers to y'self."

Then she picked up her soda and entered the fray of her extended family. She waded past Thomas and Toby who were each growing antlers on their head to show off for a newer group of students. Around Jamie retelling the story of how he survived the assault on Apocalypse to anyone who would listen. Through Logan and Storm arguing the merits of shaking down a poor pizza delivery boy.

When she reached Kitty and Kurt, they shifted to make room for her. As teens they'd formed a strong bond, and now as adults and full members of the team, they were inseparable. One, a sibling by law if not blood. The other, a sibling by choice. Here in this place, they were her family within a family.

"It's not nice to bait the newbies," Kitty teased. They'd had full view of the kitchen and so would have seen her little altercation with Belladonna.

"She wasn' so tough," Rogue shrugged. "Jus' another mutant actin' mean to keep from bein' scared."

"Vhere have we seen zat before?" Kurt wondered aloud. He ducked the swing meant for his head with a laugh.

"Watch it, fuzzball," she warned him, stealing his other piece of pizza. "I swear I'll drain the blue outta your fur."

"Joke's on you," he grinned, fangs exposed. "Zen you'd have me in your head."

Valid argument. She backed down, but still ate his food anyway.

"So what were you two talking about anyway?" Kitty asked, nodding toward Remy who'd taken a seat in a free stool. He sat by himself, away from the others, but Rogue could see he was paying attention. Learning from those around him. Did that man ever shut off?

She just shrugged in answer to the question. "Nothin' much," she said, focusing on her meal.

"I don't like him," Kurt said, his tail flicking back and forth at the tip.

"You don't like anyone Rogue is interested in," Kitty said, already moving away from the annoyed swipe of her friend.

"I'm not interested in him," Rogue snapped. "We barely agreed to be friends just now."

"Vell," Kurt said. "I still don't like him."


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

Rogue was starting to see her brother's point. Remy was quite unlikeable at times; most times, if she were being completely honest. He had that stupid smirk, and that stupid tilt of his head, and the way his stupid eyes tried to decipher everything about a person…

"Ow!"

"Sorry," she groaned, stepping back. "I don' think this is gonna work, Warren."

He only laughed and pulled her closer again, his wings tucked back behind him. "You're thinking too much," he reminded her. "Just relax. You can do this."

She sighed and rested one gloved hand on his shoulder and the other in his offered hand. Even before she got her powers she wasn't much of a dancer, and ever since? Yeah, anything requiring this much close contact was something to be avoided, not pursued. Still, if they were going to pull this off, she had to pretend she knew what she was doing.

Honestly though, this was probably the strangest use for the Danger Room ever.

"We ain' goin' there t' win any dancin' awards, y'know," she said, moving with him in the waltz.

"No, but we are there to get past my father, and he'll know if you aren't what I say you are." Warren lifted his hand from her waist to tilt her chin back up. She was glad he remembered the gloves this time. Last time he'd forgotten, and she accidentally absorbed him. This resulted in her growing a giant pair of wings that clotheslined everyone who got close enough for hours. How he walked around with those things as gracefully as he did was beyond her. At least it explained how coordinated he was while dancing.

Resting his hand back on her waist, Warren led her around the room. They'd been trying at this on and off for a little over a week now, for as long as they knew about the particulars of this mission.

Give her someone to beat up any day. Sentinels, megalomaniac mutants, Friends of Humanity activists… why did it have to be dancing of all things?

"You're distracted," Warren said on their second turn about the room.

"I'm fine," she said.

He smiled at her then, a soft smile that made her itch between her shoulder blades. "You don't hide your emotions as well as you think you do, Rogue."

Oh why did he have to look at her like that? He was handsome, rich, an actual literal angel for Christ's sake! He could close his eyes and choose anyone in the mansion, and they would be his, man or woman.

But he chose to smile at her, asking her a question without ever uttering a word.

She was just too much of a coward to give him an answer, one way or the other. So instead, she simply ignored his comment and kept moving in time with the quiet music he'd set up. The one favor his attention was giving her was the desire to focus on anything other than her dancing partner.

Thus it was approximately nine days after the beginning of their private lessons that Rogue finally learned how to dance the waltz.

"There," Warren said after the last turn. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Bad was rather relative, but she shook her head. "Nah," she agreed. "Helped t' have a good teacher."

He looked pleased though he shrugged off the praise gracefully. "I had a good partner to work with."

Session over at last, they walked together to the exit. She never thought she'd ever look forward to a Danger Room session with Logan before. She sincerely hoped the next time she was in here, however, it would be to get shot at. It was infinitely more fun than learning the waltz.

They paused at the door so the Warren could palm it open. Rather than do so, he paused, looking unusually unsure of himself.

Oh no.

"Look, Rogue," he started with some hesitation in his voice. "I was thinking…"

She forced herself to keep a neutral face, though her heart started to beat faster and a flush rose to her cheeks. He wasn't really going to… right? Not now. Not when they needed to focus on the task at hand, and she still didn't know what to say…

Yet here they were, and he looked like he was bucking himself up to keep talking. "We've been friends for a while," he continued. "And I really value that, but I—"

He was cut off as the door was opened for him, and she was saved from having to give an answer. Her savior came in the form of Remy LeBeau, geared up for a proper session in the Danger Room. His uniform seemed to have received some upgrades from what she remembered by way of black body armor rather than the plain shirt and pants that he'd worn before. It looked like he got a bit smarter with age, even if he still wore that dumb duster of his.

She looked away from him before he'd mistake it for staring.

"Remy, wasn't it?" Warren asked. His voice was pleasant enough, but she could see he was annoyed at being interrupted.

"Oui," Remy answered, and she felt him looking at her. "Trainin' in skirts now, Chère?"

"I've been teaching her how to dance," Warren answered for her.

"An' now we're done," she said before this could get any more awkward. "Room's all yours, Swamp Rat."

She shared a small smile with Warren and then left on her own, stepping around the Cajun in her way.

"By the way," she called behind her without looking back. "We got a meeting with the professor in a couple hours, so don' be down here too long."

When she was upstairs, Rogue noticed a training session underway out on the back lawn. While she wasn't bad with kids, she didn't know the first thing about how to train someone to use their powers. She didn't even have control over her own yet, and the constant veil of protective clothing she wore every day was a reminder of that. No use having a teacher who couldn't do it themselves.

She wandered out to watch, not having anything else to do until the meeting. Besides, some fresh air might do her cluttered mind some good. It would give her some space from Warren and the conundrum he'd put her in.

Ororo was leading today's session, walking amongst the students as she lectured on serenity and acceptance. On accepting one's powers and moving with it as one would with a stream or breeze.

Once, those lessons had been directed at her, and Rogue was no better for it. Not that she could be too harsh on the woman; everyone else learned control. Even now, the group of ten were manifesting in response to Ororo's words. A flash of light here, a levitating ball there, even the twins were clashing antlers for fun. Not bad for a group of newbies. No matter the age, the newest students always went through Ororo first. Simple supervised manifestation before being allowed to learn other, more deadly ways to use one's powers with Logan. Only those who would eventually become X-Men were ever allowed access to the Danger Room.

Most students never got that far. Once they learned basic control and a few tricks, most mutants and their families thanked Xavier for his help and went on their way. They'd go to build new lives for themselves, as hidden or obvious to the public as they chose. Only a few were ever offered the uniform, and fewer still accepted it.

She leaned back against the building and watched, her body relaxing at the familiar words and sounds of home. Forget Warren and his romantic intentions. This was simple, this was good.

Of course, such a thing couldn't last.

"Merde!"

Around the corner, Belladonna sat in the shade away from the other students. She had her hands cupped around one of the fallen autumn leaves, glaring at it as if it had insulted her. Her eyes glinted gold in the afternoon light, but that was it. If she'd been hoping to recreate her powers, Belladonna was clearly disappointed.

"You're tryin' too hard," Rogue said, looking over at her.

The Assassin looked up and directed her malevolent gaze to the fellow Southerner. "I didn' ask you," she growled, then focused back on the leaf in her hand. It remained completely pristine and unburnt.

"Remy brought you here t' learn control," Rogue pointed out. "Ororo knows what she's talkin' about. You might wanna give it a try since y' here anyway."

"What would you know 'bout control anyway? An' what makes y' t'ink I won' just burn you all to th' ground in y' sleep?" Belladonna asked, and Rogue wasn't sure if she was being serious or not. "By now y'all know who I am."

Rogue couldn't hold in a small chuckle of amusement. The jibe about her own control hardly phased her. "Oh Sugah, you could bring y' whole Guild out here an' they wouldn' make it through th' front gate. You ain' th' most dangerous mutant under this roof. Not even close. Not by half."

"You don' know how dangerous I am," the woman snarled, still focused on the leaf. The area touched by her fingers singed a little, but still no flame.

"I know plenty, an' with just one touch, I can know even more." She didn't often threaten with her powers and actually mean it, but Belladonna just brought it out in her. So much for trying to give the newbie a chance. This one was as horrible as her reputation.

"Y'ain't th' only one who knows t'ings," Belladonna said. The black singe marks spread through the leaf's veins and at last the whole thing erupted in flame. The Cajun woman smiled in triumph, mesmerized by the flickering light. "I know plenty 'bout you too, petite putain. Remy don' keep his secrets as well as he should." Then her golden eyes flicked up to meet Rogue's, and the woman smiled in a way that made her skin crawl.

"Like what?" Rogue doubted she actually knew much that was worth anything. Still, if Remy told her something he shouldn't have…

"Enough t' know what you are an' what kind o' threat y' t'ink y' hold t' me an' mine." Belladonna dropped the pile of ashes that had been her leaf and picked up another, this time able to light the thing in only a manner of seconds.

"You're more self-centered than he is," Rogue scoffed, looking back at Ororo's lesson for a moment. "If y' think I give any fucks 'bout you or y' damn Guild—"

"You a threat an' I get rid o' my threats." Belladonna's voice was just next to her ear, and it made her jump in surprise. How had the woman gotten up and so close without her hearing anything? She'd just looked away for a second!

The Assassin grinned as Rogue tried to hide her surprise.

"I don' give a shit about you," Rogue snapped, her eyes narrowed dangerously. "So jus' leave me alone."

Belladonna studied her for a moment longer, though Rogue had no idea why or what she was looking for. The woman was truly insane, wasn't she? No wonder Remy changed his mind about marrying her. She might be one of the most beautiful women she'd ever seen, but she was completely off her rocker. What kind of threat did she actually think Rogue posed? And to whom?

Seemingly satisfied with… whatever she'd been looking for, Belladonna pulled away from the other woman and walked back towards the house. "Mind y' back, putain," she sang. "I'm La Belle Ange de la Mort an' I always get my mark. One day you'll turn 'round an' see me there wit' yo' death in m' hand."

Well fantastic. Her one shot at relaxing after escaping a surreal moment in the Danger Room, and she got her life threatened by a crazy bitch who ran a club of killers. Great.

"Making friends, I see." Ororo stepped up beside Rogue as the patio door was shut behind Belladonna's exit.

"I think we're finally startin' to connect," Rogue said. "Soon we'll be braidin' each other's hair an' talkin' about boys."

"Do you think she's going to be a problem?" It wasn't often that Ororo asked her opinion on any of the new students. She must be worried as well. Honestly, who wouldn't be, knowing what she was?

"Nothin' we can't handle," Rogue said. "She doesn' even like it here. She won' last long."

Her teammate simply nodded and returned to dismiss her students on the day's lesson. Rogue left her to it. She'd lost the craving for fresh air.

When the time came for the big meeting, she caught Remy in the halls coming back from the Danger Room. He looked worn out from the session, and what was visible of his shirt was soaked through with sweat. Whatever he'd done, it seemed to have given him a run for his money.

"Have fun?" she asked, her lips quirked in a half-smile.

"Now I see how y'all keep in shape," he admitted.

"Well clean y' smelly self up, grab y' crazy Assassin friend, and meet us in the professor's library."

He looked interested at the idea of a group meeting that included him, and she hoped he would agree to go along with their plans. It was a stroke of luck that he needed their help at the same time that they needed his. Perhaps they could make this arrangement work.

Of course, she had to admit ruefully, including him also meant including Belladonna, and she couldn't imagine anyone worse for the job than that woman. She'd tried to convince the professor of this, but he wouldn't hear any of it. It was his hope that including the Assassin would foster trust between both parties.

Rogue had to give the man credit for his perpetual optimism, but if the Institute went down in flames suddenly, she'd be right there with an "I told you so."

Remy trudged off and she made her way to the library herself. Kitty and Warren were both there already, though she took a seat at the former's side. There was only so much strangeness she could take in one day, and Warren had hit his limit with her. Slowly, the others began to trickle in as well. Jean and Scott came next, with little Nathan there to crawl around the floor. Soon, the other members of the team arrived. Students weren't invited to these kinds of meetings. Belladonna and Remy came last of all, and they took a seat just behind Kitty and Rogue.

"So what's all this about, Chère ?" Remy asked, leaning forward to talk to her. Belladonna didn't so much as glance in their direction.

She looked back at him. "Now you find out what y' price is for makin' us deal with y' crazy ex-girlfriend," she said, loud enough for the Assassin to hear. To her credit, not even an eye twitched at the insult.

"I'm not gonna like it, am I?"

"Cheer up, Swamp Rat," she said. "This'll be right up y' alley."

"Now I'm scared."

"Alright, everyone," Professor Xavier said when all were settled. "Let's get started."


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

Warren took the floor first, standing in front of them all as he spoke. "Every year around Thanksgiving," he explained. "The country's top investors in anti-mutant legislation and technology get together for a fundraiser ball. All that money goes toward lobbying Congress, arming anti-mutant organizations, and funding research in how to control and eliminate us."

"Charming people," snorted Rogue under her breath. Remy silently agreed.

"This year," Warren went on. "The ball is being held at my father's mansion here in New York."

"Let me guess," Jaime said. "You're not being invited home for dinner that night."

"On the contrary. I wasn't even given a choice about it. I'm expected to attend," Warren said with a smile.

"So what are we going to do about this party anyway?" Bobby asked from the back. "Are we gonna crash it? Stop it?"

"Not even close," Warren said. "We're going to buy tickets to it. It's about ten grand a pop, and I'm getting as many of you in as possible."

"What's the point of that?" Tabitha asked. "You just expect us to do the tango with people who want to kill us?"

"The country's top anti-mutant activists will be there," the professor said on Warren's behalf. "It is the perfect opportunity to get information on what they plan to do so that we can have countermeasures in place."

"How do you plan on doing that?" Bobby asked.

"Several of you have already been asked to make preparations," Professor Xavier explained. "Warren will take with him Rogue, Jean, Sam, Kitty, and… Mr. LeBeau if he agrees."

Those three woman with the skills they had? Remy chuckled, amused. He didn't think the professor had it in him. When all eyes turned to him, he just grinned.

"So you're honey pottin'," Remy surmised. Muffled snickers made their way through a few members of the team, the males mostly.

Professor Xavier looked surprised for a moment, and a tad embarrassed. "Well," he started. "I wouldn't necessarily—"

"What's that mean?" Jean asked. Beside her, Scott looked torn between laughter and indignation. Neither seemed to be winning at the moment.

"We ain' honey pottin'!" Rogue said, choosing for him. "That ain't it at all!"

"No," Kitty said. "We're totally honey potting."

"What's honey potting?" Jean asked again, getting frustrated. Scott leaned over and whispered something in her ear. The sudden flush of her cheeks let Remy know that they were all on the same page now. Good.

"We need the information," Warren said with an apologetic smile. "If we can get it without anyone getting hurt, all the better."

"You got targets yet?" Remy asked. His mind already started buzzing with plans and methods he might use to get in and out. A Thief from the Guild never really stopped working after all, and something like this really was up his alley. Rogue was right.

"There's an engineer who we know is working on the next stage in Sentinel design," Warren said. "Jean will take care of him. Rogue will be with me getting to know the doctor who's trying to develop some "cure" to mutant manifestation."

"So where do I come in?"

"We need another rich donor to get in, and we figured with your… background, you wouldn't have trouble coming up with an alias that they wouldn't suspect. Plus your experience in this sort of… delicate operation would make it more likely that we'd succeed."

"What kind o' alias?" Remy grinned. "I got whatever y' need, homme."

"Got one with a wife?" Warren asked.

"'Course I do."

"Good. Then you'll be escorting Kitty. Aside from Forge, she's the best tech-head we have, and we could use someone like you to get her access to my father's private servers."

Kitty sat up straighter and preened at the praise. She missed the soft smile that Kurt sent her way, but Remy didn't. Interesting.

"Not a bad plan," Remy admitted.

Scott stood up next, as the leader of the team.

"No, but it's still a bit tricky. We could use more inside men, but the fact is too many of us are recognizable. Even with an image inducer, we would only get so far."

"Uh, question?" Remy asked.

"Yes?" Scott sighed.

"I have 'bout two dozen cousins alone who do dis f' a livin'. How many people do y' need?"

Scott scowled and opened his mouth to shut the idea down, but Warren stepped forward again. "How many can you get?" he asked. "I can probably get some more tickets if you think you can manage it."

Remy just grinned. Oh this was going to be fun.

"Hein," he said. "I get y' some numbers t'night."

"What about the rest of us?" Bobby asked. "What are we supposed to do? Sit back and wait?"

"We'll be running back up," Logan answered. "If we need to move in or help them get a quick getaway, we'll be there to help out."

"That's all worst case scenario," Warren said. "With any luck, I'll be the only known mutant there, and my family considers me pretty well under thumb. At least in front of their rich friends."  
"Y' still haven't said who my mark is," Belladonna spoke up. Remy gave her a side glance, but she simply looked at him as if he were stupid.

"I don't follow," Warren said, his face screwed in confusion. "Your mark?"

"She wants t' know if y' need anyone killed at de party," Remy translated for her. "She ain' good at parties or makin' friends." She kicked him with the heel of her boot, but he stubbornly ignored it. He hadn't been kidding about the debutante remark earlier, though to be fair, he was pretty sure it was custom at all Assassin debutante balls to kill the date.

"No," Warren said, still looking horribly confused. "Why would we-?"

"Y' askin' me t' attend, non?" Belladonna asked. "Den what's de point if not t' use my skills?"

"No one's going to be killed," Scott answered, seeing as how Warren was still trying to wrap his mind around what was happening. "We just need another person in there to help get information if possible."

Bella nodded her understanding, though Remy caught a sigh of disappointment.

The meeting adjourned not long after once everyone had the role that they would play on the day of. Many of the mutants stayed behind to talk to one another, be it for the upcoming mission or simply to make plans for later. Jean went to go rescue the professor from her son, though both seemed content as was. Nathan bounced and laughed on Xavier's lap, and the older man laughed with him. He almost reminded Remy of his own father in a way, with their love of a large family underfoot. That was probably where the similarities ended though; he couldn't see Charles Xavier building his fortune through a network of thieves.

Then again, stranger things have been known to happen.

As he stood to go, Bella stood with him and caught his forearm with a soft touch of her hand. He didn't trust her soft. Angry, he knew. Unreasonable, furious, jealous, catty… that was Belladonna. This gentler side of her, well gentler for her anyway, was one that made him feel on edge. Not in a good way either.

"Dis is crazy, mon chère. You t'ink dese X-Men know anythin' 'bout what they're doin'?" she asked him in an undertone. She spat the name of the team like it was nothing more than a group of children at play getting in over their heads. How wrong she was. Back when they really were children, they were still a force to be reckoned with. Even a trained and initiated young Thief like him had trouble with them when Magneto hired him.

"I t'ink you got a lot t' learn, Belle," he told her.

"What do they have t' teach me, Remy?" she scoffed.

"How t' be in a room o' people without killin' someone is a good start." Behind her, he could see Warren wandering over to talk to Rogue. Something tickled at the back of his brain about it… he didn't like it, and he didn't know why. Seeing them together down in the Danger Room bothered him as well, but he didn't want to dwell on that either.

What he did want to focus on, for the time being, was stealing her away for a while and avoiding Belladonna. Neither prospect looked easy, but then he was Remy LeBeau. He didn't go for easy.

"Excusez-moi," he said as he pulled out his phone. There was only one way to be sure the Assassin princess would vacate, and that was through his family. "Should I give Henri your regards?"

As expected, she immediately backed away from him. Snorting with derision, she wandered herself over to one of the congregating groups that included Bobby, Jaime, and a few others he'd forgotten the names of. Her sneer transformed into something almost lovely, and she leaned in to talk to them. Either she was actually trying to make her stay here less painful by meeting the others, or more likely, she was trying to make him jealous.

Remy really hoped it was the former.

Turning to leave the room, he passed by Rogue who was in the middle of conversation with the winged X-Man.

"Hey, Chère," he called out, not caring about whatever Warren was rambling about. "Meet me out front in five."

"What for?" she asked, an eyebrow arched. Warren gave him a thin smile, unable to completely hide his annoyance at the interruption. One of his wings flicked before folding back into place. Remy ignored him.

"Well, y' did say t' ask next time I was gonna kidnap you," he replied with a grin.

There was a tug at the corner of her lips but not much beyond that. Tough crowd today.

"Getting' supplies an' could use directions," he added.

Warren scowled. "I was actually seeing if she—"

"Yeah, I'll be there," Rogue said, cutting him off. She offered the other man a slight shrug. "I could use some things too. We can talk later."

It wasn't the answer Warren seemed to want, but he let it go. Remy couldn't quite hide the satisfied grin and he knew it didn't go unmissed. He didn't care. Ha, take that, rich boy.

Leaving the two to… whatever they were talking about, he dialed a number into his phone and walked into the hallway to talk. Even with half of the team gone already, they were a noisy bunch.

The call was answered on the second ring. "Whatever it is, Remy, de answer is no."

Remy grinned and kept walking until he reached a quieter area of that wing in the house. "Bonjour to you too, mon frère."

"I ain' lendin' you money, o' bailin' you out, o' whatever it is y' want me t' do." Sheesh, Henri even sounded like he meant it this time too.

"Y' wound me," Remy replied. "All 'm askin' for is—"

"Non."

"—is for a couple extra bodies t' volunteer an' help de X-Men wit' a gig."

"Dey crime-fightin' mutants, Rem. I'm sure dey don' need our help."

"Oh, now I know y' always wanted t' work wit' a team o' mutants. Jus' think how much fun it'll be."

His brother was having none of it, but Remy could practically hear the resolve slowly dissipate. "You say 'fun.' I say whateve' it is, Père won' like it."

"An' won't that be de icing on de cake, non Henri? Dat's payment enough!"

There was silence for a moment on the other end of the line, and Remy began to wonder if he'd actually have to offer a bribe this time. Then…

"How many?" Henri asked, in that resigned tone of his that let Remy know he'd already won.

"De twins, Ansel, Estelle, Lili, Mercy an' you make seven."

"So y' askin' me t' collect a whole damn herd of our cousins, drive or fly or whatever t' get up Nort'… for a gig. Am I hearin' y' right, Rem?"

"Y' hearin' right, mon frère."

"F' free."

"Ain' a penny in it for y'."

"Mercy's nearly six months along, Remy."

"You wanna have dat talk wit' her, it's your funeral."

"Is it dangerous?"

Remy shrugged and leaned against the wall. "Well," he said. "We infiltratin' a rich mutant hater wit' tighter security den mos' casinos. An' Belladonna's comin' along on our side, pyro powers an' all."

Henri sighed, but Remy smiled with victory. He knew his big brother couldn't resist a challenge like that. He wasn't the only one that found Guild life boring lately.

"De lady or de tiger," Henri said at last. "Hein, I'll call when we're getting' close."

"Oh, an' one of you'll have t' escort Bella in as her date."

"…Y' shittin' me."

Remy couldn't keep the stupid grin off his face. This happened so rarely where he could truly mess with his brother with no repercussions. "Who's y' frère préféré?"

"I hate y' so much right now, Rem." Henri hung up on him before he could hear the younger man's laughter.

Remy, Henri, and his favorite cousins all doing a job together. It would be just like old times, but this time with mutants running amuck throughout it all. That and no personal gain to be had by it. If New Orleans was boring enough to drive several of her best out for free, this would definitely be a night to remember.

He walked down the stairs and towards the main entrance. There weren't many people in this part of the house at the moment, so he took the time to look at the many keys laying on a table by the door in a large decorative bowl. Once, they probably had proper designated spots, but the years made the owners simply toss them aside till later.

Good, all the better for him.

It only took a few seconds to find the keys to a nice-looking Harley parked out front. He had his suspicions for who owned said bike, but now that he was a welcomed guest, surely a little borrowing wasn't too far out of line.

"Gambit."

Remy glanced to the side where a dark blue figure made its way towards him. "Nightcrawler," he replied, amused. What had he done to earn that sour expression anyway?

"I hear you are taking Rogue out vith you to town."

Oh. That's what he'd done.

"Oui, y' heard right, homme."

"I vant you to know I don't trust you," Kurt said, his eyes narrowed into golden slits. "And I'm keeping my eye on you." The spade of his tail flicked back and forth like a disgruntled cat.

"Didn' think y' tastes ran Cajun," Remy smirked back at him, not intimidated in the slightest. "B'sides, I thought y' were more of a… kitten guy m'self."

The tail paused just one second longer before the next flick, and they both knew he was caught.

Remy stepped closer so they couldn't be overheard. Normally he liked to keep his intentions closer to his chest, but this guy was too much fun not to mess with. "You stay outta my way, I stay outta yours, homme. Deal?"

"No deal," Kurt said. "Kitty is… she's my friend. And Rogue is my sister."

"Den be glad I ain' after de petite chaton, 'cause then you'd be outta options, wouldn' you?"

Kurt straightened to his full height, which was still shorter than Remy, but not by as much. "Stay avay from both of zem," he growled, fangs showing.

Well, the man almost looked like he meant it. Not that Remy let it bother him, of course. "Little hard t' do seein' as how la chaton is my date t' this mutant-hatin' soiree," he grinned. "I'll be sure t' have a dance for y' though. Mebbe a kiss goodnight too if y' like."

One of Kurt's eyes twitched and for a moment he looked as if he would lunge for him, but in the end he stayed still. Almost stiffly, he turned his back on Remy, which the Cajun could see a mile away. What he didn't see, however, was the tail lashing a wide arc by his shins, knocking him off balance. He recovered and caught himself, but not without a grunt of surprise.

That little blue bastard…

"I meant vhat I said," Kurt said as he walked away and towards the kitchen. "Stay avay from zem, or I'll drop you from a mile above ze clouds. Auf wiedersehen, arschloch."

"Are you tormentin' my brother?" Remy heard an amused voice behind him.

Remy turned to face her, wondering how much she might have heard. Rogue's face was unreadable; the girl could pull a poker face to rival a casino dealer, and it left him as unbalanced as the teleporter's tail had. Perhaps it was a family trait.

"Who's tormentin' who?" he asked, playing it off. "Y'know, I remember him bein' a lot more friendly."

"Oh he's plenty friendly," she said, an eyebrow arched. "Just maybe not to high profile criminals. Makes him edgy."

"I ain' got time for mommy issues," he said. "You ready t' go?"

She glanced down at the set of keys in his hand. "You're not serious, are you?"

"What?"

"Those are Logan's keys. You're gonna jack his bike to go downtown for supplies?" she shook her head and laughed. "You got a death wish, Swamp Rat."

"Which is why I figured you'd be a great speed bump between me an' your pet badger," he countered.

"I'll protect your life, but only on one condition." Rogue held out a gloved hand. "Gimme."

"Quoi?"

"Come on, hand 'em over. The Rogue doesn't sit bitch. If we're takin' his bike, then I'm drivin'."

"An' you expect me t' ride in th' back?" Remy gripped the keys a little tighter and backed away from the woman. There was no way on God's green earth he was sitting passenger on a Harley. Wasn't going to happen. Non.

"Yeah I do, or I can expect you to drive Hank's Pontiac. Now what's it gonna be, Cajun?"

The woman fought dirty, and Remy was forced to acknowledge that she had him cornered. With a stubborn set of his jaw, he nonetheless handed the keys over to her waiting hand. "I drive back," he said.

"I'm open to bribery, but my price is steep," she warned, but at least she hadn't said no.

"Hein," he sighed. "Lead de way."


End file.
